Vampires are assholes. They just are. Vinnie Jones looks like an asshole. He just does. Some genius realized both of these truths, called Michael Madsen, some UFC girls, and DMX, and made this vampire movie. They probably tried to get Vin Diesel, but he must have known better. No worries, though. They got some Diesel carbon copy who looks decent in a V-Neck and has no body hair below his eyebrows to play the vampire slaying “hero” in the film.
So this guy, let’s call him Din Viesel, comes back from Afghanistan to find that his family has been killed by vampires. And his brother, Vinnie Jones, is a vampire. Bummer. Vinnie Jones has this cheap wig on and he looks like the bad guy from John Carpenter’s Vampires if instead of human plasma, he ate Sizzler buffet food every night.
Then an extremely convenient coincidence is revealed…
Michael Madsen tears himself away from a bottle of whiskey to deliver lines as a priest who tears himself away from a bottle of whiskey to explain that Din is destined to be a “Slayer” and it’s his duty to hunt and kill vampires. What do you know? It’s Din Viesel’s duty/destiny to kill vampires like the ones who killed his family and the one his brother has become!
There is a really lame sequence in which this Creed sounding band plays for like five minutes while Din runs through a forest alone, realizing he’s going to have to kill Vinnie Jones. It produced no emotions in me at all. It was like watching a glass of water. The rest of the film unfolds predictably with Din hacking through the vampire gang ranks, working his way to the inevitable showdown with Vinnie Jones.
DMX is a plot device. His only job is to deliver a LOT of exposition and show how great Vinnie Jones is at cracking Leprechaun-movie caliber puns while he kills people. DMX thankfully dies before referencing one of his songs. The UFC girls play sexy vampires.
There are a few required elements for a straight-to-DVD vampire movie, which this film shamelessly and thoughtlessly delivers: an abandoned warehouse, CGI blood effects, sexy vampires, a vampire choking a guy with one hand while lifting him off of the ground, rock-techno music, and a priest who smokes cigarettes.
I love the original Maniac and this remake sticks close to the original subject matter and makes tasteful and interesting tweaks.
Elijah Wood plays Frank, a mentally ill mannequin restoration expert who gets his jollies by stalking, stabbing, and scalping young women. After he does these things, he puts the scalp on one of his mannequins like a cute little hat and has pervy conversations with them. He even sets them up in sexual positions and cries and punches mirrors and stuff. Why does he do these things? His mommy was a drug abusing, promiscuous, bad mommy whose bad behavior traumatized little Frank. Poor Frank! He develops a friendship with a non-mannequin photographer, who happens to be a young woman with a sexy scalp. This complicates things for Frank. But just a little.
Maniac is waaaaay better than Mannequin and Mannequin 2 in case you were wondering.
The movie is brutal as fuck. You get graphic scalping scenes and disturbing hallucinations. There is LOTS of loud screaming and begging. Some of the death scenes wander from the realm of slasher into torture-porn land. One of my favorite parts of the original was Frank’s demented mumbling. Wood pulls this off quite well and has some dissociative identity disorder style arguments with himself while he’s ripping off the tops of skulls. It’s especially chilling because he’s Elijah Wood, who still looks like he’s a little boy. There are also some shots/sequences that pay homage to the original film, so if you are a fucking NERD (like me) you can get your “I see what they did there!” ego-stroking horror lulz too.
The technical execution was very impressive and ambitious. The whole thing (literally 100%, except for the ending) is shot as the 1st person point-of-view of Frank. And it isn’t fucking corny or bouncing all over the place like a found-footage movie. The only time you see him is his reflection or a photo. The director said he wanted the audience to feel “trapped in [the killer’s] body.” You might think this would take away from the suspense of the film; the audience always knows where Frank is, so he can’t jump out and scare us. Maybe. However, it is a different breed of terror to experience his ecstasy and conflict as he stalks his victims and executes them. The CGI effects are limited and realistic. The make-up is fucking hideous and traumatizing. It made me yell.
The soundtrack is incredible. It’s a mixture of A Clockwork Orange, Drive, and John Carpenter synths. One of my friends likened it to Argento music, which I can hear too. It really worked as a compliment to 1st person stalking / murdering. It’ll make you want to bump it as you drive around staring at people. Or park under a neon sign and glare at yourself in the rear-view mirror.
“Are you eating it or is it eating you?” B-movie gold!
Some old codger finds a puddle of white goo seeping from the earth, so he does what any of us would do: He tastes it. Turns out, it’s not molten bird shit or house paint or toxic waste; it’s a DELICIOUS yogurt like substance! “I can sell this to people!” the old goo-eater exclaims.
The mystery goo is marketed as “The Stuff” and is sold to consumers as an ice cream alternative. The Stuff has no calories, is satisfying, and is addicting like crack. What sucks is that The Stuff is also a sentient parasitic life form. If you get hooked on The Stuff, your body is controlled and then eventually eaten from the inside out. There are tons of scenes where people are orgasmically enjoying tubs of Stuff with shit-eating grins on their faces. Later, The Stuff fatally dumps out of their stupid mouths.
In addition to turning people into Stuff zombies, The Stuff can also maneuver around like The Blob and attack people, making for some hilarious 80’s CGI sequences.
The ice cream industry, suffering from the popularity of The Stuff, hires a hot shot PI to investigate the Stuff company. The PI forms a little Anti-Stuff detective league with an 8-year old kid and a fashion mogul. They do all sorts of shenanigans like blowing up a lake of Stuff, infiltrating a Stuff factory, and fighting hordes of Stuff zombies. These fights are great. Punch a Stuffy in the face and half their skull cracks off, revealing a Stuff geyser.
Paulie from Goodfellas plays an Army general.
There are elements from many of your favorite horror/sci-fi movies: The possessions by a foreign organism like in The Thing; the creepy food product like in Soilent Green; the few unlikely heroes who know the truth and set out to enlighten the public like in They Live. You could also read the movie as an allegory for marketing to middle class America, diet crazes, or the war on drugs. Mingle all this with B-movie charm and non-stop action, and you get The Stuff.
Alas, this dismal creation hath naught to offer. It lacks innovation, and its characters possess no semblance of likability. Every scare it attempts hinges solely upon jarring cuts accompanied by piercing synth stabs that throttle the eardrums most violently, especially if viewing this film in the stupor of an opium binge. The entire affair reeks of pretentious film students, eager to impress with their hollow craftsmanship. I am helpless to shield my eyes from this assault, Dear Reader! In this opium-induced stupor, I am both captive and slave to the abysmal narrative of Smiley, ensnared as I surrender to the seductive allure of the poppy’s embrace!
The unlikeable science-fiction drek Dark Skies, with desperate ambition, weaves three consecutive false climaxes, utilizing the tired device of awakening abruptly from a dream (within a dream within a dream). The result is a harrowing descent into a punishing conclusion, tormenting the viewer with the wretchedness of this alien tale. Smiley, on the other hand, audaciously subjects us to six such instances of false climax, followed by a double twist ending. Within this opium-infused dreamscape, my own skies darken, the boundaries of reason blur, and the fabric of reality unravels. Oh thank God for the poppy!
In the realm of Smiley, it is said that if one visits a particular video chat site and types “I did it for the lulz” thrice, a blade-wielding serial killer shall materialize behind the unsuspecting chat partner, proceeding to commit a gruesome murder. Protagonist Ashley and her dubious companion, lured by morbid curiosity, dare to test this nefarious ritual, only to be horrified when it indeed manifests its dark consequences. Thus unfolds a distressing journey through the labyrinth of paranoia and false scares, accompanied by abysmal acting, woeful writing, and the disconcerting presence of perspiring men engaging in vulgar acts within the confines of their virtual chat chambers. In the most maddening doldrums of my haze, I sought out the accursed chat chamber and tried in vain to configure a sort of feedback loop so that I might afflict myself with the hex of the “lulz,”thus freeing myself from the grip of this vile film.
The cast comprises nameless souls, Z-list attractions from the netherrealm of YouTube, and the sparing appearance of Keith David, who graces the screen for a mere fraction of time. A discerning eye would note the repetitive nature of the extras, for a limited number of souls populate the background, appearing repeatedly like apparitions haunting a forsaken realm. Although I admit, reality took on a most kaleidoscopic nature as the poppy drifted through my consciousness, so it is entirely possible that the duplicate phantoms were slivers of my shattered reality spinning and spinning and SPINNING as I longed for the release of the lulz!
The killer, named Smiley, is dubbed by one character as “the world’s first viral serial killer.” A far-fetched claim, indeed. Would it not be more fitting to deem him the “first emoticon-based serial killer”? For a decade or more, internet horror films have plagued the screens (recall Fear Dot Com), and countless cinematic endeavors have been born from urban legends (consider, for instance, Urban Legend). Smiley himself is a mere mortal, concealed in a nondescript trench coat. Oh, what an ostentatious display of imaginative genius!
Smiley’s countenance embodies what it feels like to view this film as seconds stretch into hours in a bewildering fog of opium: His eyes, sewn shut, and his mouth carved into a permanent, ghastly smile, resemble not only a disfigured, infected big toe, but also my own petrified countenance, no doubt frozen in a ghoulish and vacant gaze for days!
In a disconcerting twist, Ashley’s Ethics teacher speculates upon the possibility of the internet gaining consciousness and evolving into a malevolent force. Smiley, perchance, personifies this malevolence, delighting in the slaughter of those who indulge in lascivious acts within the digital realm… on the very internet itself. How this purported authority on Ethics is qualified to expound upon such matters (and why, in the name of all that is rational, would he discuss them within the confines of an Ethics class?) remains shrouded in uncertainty, akin to the wisps of chest hair protruding from his meticulously groomed attire and the wisps of cloud that shroud my mind.
My deepest solace lies in the conclusion of this accursed film, where none remain to feign performances, to utter senseless dialogue, or to desecrate the screen with their presence. In the quietude that ensues, I find respite from this torment that has plagued my very being. And now, visions of Smiley dance before my half-closed eyes, their ethereal forms shimmering with an otherworldly glow, as if painted by the hand of a mad artist who seeks to carve the lulz into my soul.
The guy who directed Maniac, which I love, and Maniac Cop, which I also enjoy, directs Uncle Sam, a movie about a ruthless “maniac” soldier (named Sam; lolz) who is killed in Desert Storm and then returns from the grave as an evil, murderous Uncle Sam. They could have called the movie “Maniac Soldier,” but I guess they really wanted a guy in an Uncle Sam suit.
Sam’s body is crispier than a sack of tater tots left in a house fire. He looks like Swamp Thing except he’s all black and grey. His corpse is shipped home to his grieving wife and shortly after arriving, Sam wakes up. How? Don’t ask me. The rest of the film is just a lumbering, zombie, Lurch-like, reanimated civil servant villain going on a killing spree and a sub-plot about Sam’s alcoholism/sadism. The “maniac” formula worked to achieve something of a cult following for Maniac Cop but the charm didn’t quite transfer for poor Uncle Sam.
Anyway, Sam’s crispy ass gets a hold of an Uncle Sam outfit and then starts murdering unpatriotic folks during some 4th of July festivities. He puts a little “’Merica” twist on his kills too. The best is the fireworks related death in which an unpatriotic Congressman gets lit the fuck up like a Christmas tree. There’s also some garden shears through eyeballs and an impaling on an American flagpole.
Each kill is pretty well thought out; there are more than simple stabbings and all sorts of goofy shit happens. Isaac Hayes shows up and he’s got a wooden leg. There’s a sack race. Uncle Sam gets shot with cannon balls.
There is some social commentary more transparent than Angelina Jolie, but I still appreciate it. Snippets of conversations about patriotism/pacifism, draft dodging, and the real purpose of soldiers pepper the film. I like that these things are in there and I’ll give Uncle Sam props for trying to make us think (just a little bit) during what would otherwise be a formulaic slasher flick.
Every horror junkie sits through his fair share of poorly-reviewed garbage hoping to find a diamond in the rough. Since Oren Peli’s name was attached to this, and I’m such a fan of his Paranormal Activity movies, I gave it a shot, although the Dish Network info screen had it scored as 1.5 starts. Maybe this one flew under the radar?
Nope. It’s shit. Worse, it’s boring shit. Zero suspense, no sense of danger, and although it’s not a found footage movie, it’s shot in the same minimalist style. You know the drill: It’s dark, the camera’s shaky, lots of screams then cutaways. This approach means that even by the end of the movie, I’m still not sure what I was supposed to be scared of, other than some wild dogs that do damage in the daytime. But I don’t find German fucking shepherds creepy.
Oh, there is a part with a bear. That was kinda cool, I guess.
The only intriguing thing about this snoozefest is the premise: Dumb American kids (along with an Auzzie dude and Norwegian chick) sign on for an “extreme tour” of the town next to Chernobyl that was hastily evacuated after the reactor meltdown. You would think that would make for some cool mutant shit, but you’d be wrong. I guess the things hunting the dumbfuck Americans are mutants, but you never see them clearly enough to shit your pants about them.
The one halfway cool scene is in the trailer. So watch that instead, and thank ol’ Dr. Loomis for saving you an hour and 25 minutes, you ungrateful fucks.
This review is for the 2005 horror film based on a Marvel Comics character. If you were looking for a different “Man-Thing,” sorry, perv.
The Man-Thing is basically Swamp-Thing. He chills in the swamp and murders people if they go into the swamp. Some people go into the swamp, so they get murdered. End of plot.
He looks like a cheap pile of fake kelp and has CGI eyes. His victims die by disembodiment or by having Man-Thing manipulated vegetation fatally sprout from their stupid bodies in 2 seconds. You get breasts, gore, and a stockpile of oil company goons waiting to die for your entertainment. The kills are funny but the “scary” fast motion sequences with loud-as-fuck racket that happen every 10 minutes get a little old. And Man-Thing looks fucking dumb. And there is no story.
In the comics, Man-Thing hates fear. Whenever he senses the emotion, he secretes a corrosive chemical and burns motherfuckers (you can imagine that since he looks like a 7-foot tall pile of walking vegetables, some of them very phallic, a lot of people get burned). Movie Man-Thing hates audiences being interested in a film. And he has this power where he communicates with / controls vegetation like how Aquaman talks to fish. I guess Hollywood was up on their straight-to-DVD High Horse and was like “I don’t know… he ejaculates acidic fear juice… who would watch that?” and then they gave him the ability to look fucking silly and grow plants for their cinematic masterpiece.
The movie tries to explain, with some vague text at the beginning of the film and maybe a dozen words later in the film, that Movie Man-Thing is not a transformed scientist like Comic Man-Thing; he is actually a forest spirit protecting the swamp. Great. Thanks for protecting that swamp, Man-Thing. Maybe they can do a sequel where we see Man-Thing’s slow, CGI asshole cousin all made of sand protecting some uninhabitable square mile of desert.
All kids under the age of 10 fall into a deep coma punctuated by creepy seizures. Most entertaining stretch of the film. Act 1 ends.
A decade later, the still comatose kids suddenly become not comatose and work together to murder / consume the souls of adults. They are incredibly effective at this; despite being bedridden for ten years, they are nimble and tough yet easily defeated by different flavors of head trauma and point-blank gun shots.
As you would expect, a group of survivors band together and try to stay alive while simultaneously trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. What unfolds is a dozen or so clichés stitched together for 88 minutes and a cop-out ending. I am such a sucker; I actually skipped back and watched the ending of the DVD with cast/editor commentary. They didn’t speak on anything that was happening. They spent about eight minutes dissecting how “hot” the barely hot lead actress is.
It’s like Children of the Corn and Dawn of the Dead but directed by douche bags. The adults travel from building to building as they hide from the coma-kids. With each transfer to a new locale, one or more members of the group get murdered. I can’t believe this happened more than once, but there are multiple scenes where a kid is pointing a gun at someone, but before they can pull the trigger, they are shot by an out-of-frame character at the last possible second. You know what I’m talking about: The red wound appears and swells. The shot kid slumps to their knees and we see the character behind them holding the smoking gun.
Gunfire to non-vital and thus impervious zombie body parts inspire looks of surprise and awful-as-fuck dialogue. There are shock cuts around corners and off-screen, implied kills. Some of the makeup is okay and there are some creepy shots of seizing kids.
The Wise Elder character tries to explain early on that the epidemic is predicted by an obscure Bible passage and that the children have risen from hibernation to claim souls as the first stage of the rapture. He is, of course ignored, until one of the survivors, James Van Der Beek, he of the Creek of Dawson, figures it all out and sacrifices himself to a mob of kids. This is great because I was sick of looking at his cheap tattoos. Apparently, the only way to stop them, or slow them down, or make them less violent (it is never clarified) is to voluntarily offer your soul up for consumption. Surprisingly, few characters do this.
A paperback Grapes of Wrath shows up a few times in the film, making me want to puke blood and soil myself. The parallels between that text and The Plague are feeble and superficial. Van Der Beek returns home like Tom Joad does and finds his family is in a bad way. That’s about it. We have no great migration, no comments on human kindness (or human nature), no critique of capitalism, and no complex human relationships. Maybe you could argue that VDB laying down for the kids is like the breast feeding scene in the novel because they involve generous self-sacrifice. Good luck with that.
BLOODCRYPT 